


Hide and Seek

by Ecanus



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Humor, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-03
Updated: 2012-08-03
Packaged: 2017-11-11 08:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ecanus/pseuds/Ecanus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deuce wants to play a game for his birthday, but Slick and Droog get a little side-tracked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hide and Seek

You are Diamonds Droog, and you hate hide and seek.

It’s a silly childish game, and on any other day you’d have outright refused to play it. But alas, today is Deuce’s birthday. None of you’d had anything planned—in truth, you’ve forgotten each other’s birthdays, even nearly your own—so Deuce suggested a game. Reluctantly, you complied, only because Deuce added a few adjustments to the game’s rules.

The person who’s ‘it’ can only tag someone by making them bleed. As well, they’re blindfolded. The hideout isn’t exactly large and doesn’t have a whole lot of places to hide despite its name, so some handicaps are necessary.

You sigh as you nurse a glass of liquor, sitting on the couch in the hideout’s small TV room, glancing now and then to the open doorway. Of course you’re not actually going to hide. Sure, you’ll humour Deuce by playing this silly little game, but you’re not dirtying your suit by getting on your hands and knees to wedge yourself in some unsanitary crevice. As long as the seeker is blind, you think your hiding spot on the couch will work just fine.

You raise a brow as you hear footsteps approaching down the hall. You set your glass down on the small end table quietly and wait. Deuce was it when you first started. Did he catch anyone, you wonder.

A quiet string of curses echoes into the room as Slick stumbles in, blindfolded, a small cut running across the back of his left hand.

A smirk twitches across your features for a moment, but quickly disappears without a sound, your hands folding in your lap. Of course. Slick probably couldn’t shut up long enough to stay hidden.

He walks about the room as you sit there, perfectly still, watching him. There aren’t too many places to hide in here. There’s under the end table and behind the television, but you’d have to be the size of Deuce to fit. Slick probably heard him run off in this direction and followed.

He grumbles under his breath about getting the little bastard, stomping over television chords as his hands reach out into thin air, looking to claw at what he hopes is a nearby carapace. But the air is empty, with no evidence of small feet scampering away from his proximity, so Slick grumbles again and moves along. He walks over to where he believes the end table is, barely a foot away from you, but still, you’re silent. His fingers swipe the empty space beneath the table, and he grimaces when he finds nothing.

To keep his bearings, he grabs for the armrest, then moves forward, hand following. His palm lands on your thigh.

Rather than going for your throat, he stops. He knows it’s you. Your thigh is too thick to be Deuce’s and too thin to belong to Boxcars. But his expression is blank, either pretending he doesn’t know it’s you or shocked that you aren’t hiding at all.

You stay still.

You think you see him grin for half a second before he starts moving his hand up. You raise a brow but don’t question, instead moving your own hands off of your lap to give him room. He feels that. A moment later he’s straddling your thighs. Slick, you say finally, you are aware that it’s still Deuce’s birthday. He says yeah, and? You say and nothing, you were just making sure.

The both of you made a half-hearted promise to each other not to fool around today. But no one else is in the room. You would make a better attempt at protesting, but Slick wearing a blindfold is somewhat enticing. For example, you can make whatever faces you want at him without receiving a smart remark for it. Like the half-lidded, smirking one you’re giving him now.

The other two can wait.

You inhale sharply as his mouth crashes onto yours, your grin somewhat evident when his tongue runs playfully over your teeth. Your hands run up his thighs to grab at his hips. He reacts by pressing himself against you, one hand cupping your face while the other tugs at your tie. Despite his usual demeanor, he’s slow when it comes to these sorts of things. His kisses are deep yet soft, the feel of his fingers against your skin nearly as light as a feather. It’s a side only you get to see, and you honestly wouldn’t have it any other way. Somehow it’s hotter to you than any biting or hasty ripping of clothes, especially with someone as vicious as Slick.

You continue kissing him as you grab hold of his back and flip the both of you over, so that Slick’s head lies on the other armrest while you reside between his legs. He sighs in contentment. The sigh is interrupted, however, by a gasp as your hand slides over his crotch. Another advantage. With that blindfold on he has no idea where you’re going to touch him next. He deepens the kiss a little more as his hips roll forward, into your touch, fingers clutching tighter around your tie.

You break the kiss after a few seconds and move your mouth to the side of his head. How about we forget about this stupid game, you whisper. You’re caught a little off guard by the deepness of your own voice, but quickly brush it off, nipping at the skin behind his jaw. He hums at the suggestion, but quickly adds that there’s one thing he needs to do before that.

Your forehead creases, confused, pulling back to stare at him despite his blindfold. What’s that then, you ask. There’s a grin playing on his mouth, and he leans forward to snag you in a kiss again. You fall into his trap.

Before you can react, he bites your lower lip hard enough that you start to bleed. You gasp and hiss at the sudden pain. And then you’re blind. Slick’s hands are swift as he ties the cloth behind your head, and then he pushes you off of him with all four of his limbs. You fall gracelessly onto the floor. Slick gets off of the couch and darts out of the room.

You lay there, sprawled out, tight-lipped, staring into the blackness the cloth has forced your eyes to see, listening to Slick’s childish cackling echoing down the hall.

You really hate hide and seek.


End file.
